Chapter 3

I ended up making my way down through the emergency stairwell.

The door had been chained shut from the outside. I kicked it six times before it finally gave way. My ankle was throbbing by then, but I barely noticed.

A cleaning lady passing by stopped in her tracks and stared at me in shock. "Ms. Bennett… Why are you coming out of here?"

"Who locked the door?"

She avoided my eyes. "I don't know. Mr. Hayes said there was an inspection today."

"An inspection that requires locking the owner inside?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

I stopped asking.

By the time I reached the lake, a bright red carpet had already been rolled across the bridge. The color was almost painfully vivid.

Two wedding planners were hauling a massive artificial flower arch toward the island. I walked toward them, only to be stopped by a security guard.

"Ms. Bennett, this is a restricted area. Please stay back."

I looked at his name tag.

"You're Daniel Brooks?"

He froze. "Yes."

"Do you know who this property belongs to?"

Daniel frowned. "The property management office told us the island has been rented by the boss."

"Move," I demanded.

"Ms. Bennett, don't make things difficult for us workers."

I shoved his arm away.

He grabbed my wrist, tightening his grip.

I gasped at the sudden pain.

"Let's go."

"Don't force your way in."

I raised my other hand to make a call when I saw Monica walk out of the greenhouse. She wore sunglasses and a beige designer suit and held a cup of coffee.

"Well. Look who finally made it down."

She glanced at my wrist.

"Daniel, be careful with her. Girls like her are delicate. She'll turn around and claim we were bullying her."

Daniel loosened his grip slightly. But he didn't let go.

My eyes went straight to the greenhouse. Broken wooden crates were piled at the entrance. The climate-controlled storage cabinets inside were open, their lights completely off. Glass shards covered the floor.

My mother's plant specimens had been trampled beneath the red carpet. Black poplar. Camellia. Metasequoia. Dove tree.

Her handwritten notes were soaked in coffee, the ink bleeding into dark stains.

For a few seconds, my mind went completely blank.

Monica followed my gaze. "Oh, those things? They were old and smelled musty. I had someone clean them out."

I walked over and crouched down, picking up a broken specimen sheet.

The label read: "Clara Bennett, 1997. Collected in Mount Midwest."

It was my mother's name.

Monica clicked her tongue. "Ms. Bennett, don't look so miserable. Weddings are supposed to be joyful. Your dried-up leaves are ruining the vibe."

I looked up.

"Those were my late mother's belongings."

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by my response. Then she laughed. "Even better. Things left behind by the dead should be cleared out anyway. You didn't seriously expect my daughter to get married next to a pile of dead plants, did you?"

I pressed the specimen paper against my chest.

My hands were shaking, not from fear, but from the overwhelming urge to wipe that smug look off her face.

Victor stepped forward, putting on his best mediator act. "Ms. Bennett, what's done is done. Making a scene isn't going to change anything. Mrs. Prescott is willing to compensate you."

"How much?"

Monica held up two fingers. "20 thousand."

I merely stared at her.

Apparently thinking I found it too little, she sighed. "Fine, 50 thousand, at most. Don't get greedy. Those scraps of paper aren't worth a fortune."

I stared at her coldly. "Monica, you can't afford the compensation for what you destroyed."

She slowly removed her sunglasses, the smile fading from her face. "Are you threatening me?"

"Restore everything you destroyed. Then get down on your knees and apologize. If you do that, I might consider not pressing charges."

She laughed as if I'd just told her a joke. "Press charges? Go ahead. What, do you think you own the courts?"

Victor chimed in, "Ms. Bennett, I should remind you that you're disrupting construction and interfering with a community event. We can call the police and have you removed."

"Call them." I held my phone out to him. "Do it now."

Victor didn't take it.

Monice stepped closer, locking her gaze on my face. "Do you really think you're better than everyone else? You live in the most expensive unit in the community, never show up for a single event, and talk to everyone in the group chat like you're above them.

"I've seen women like you before. Acting all innocent and self-righteous.

"You couldn't afford anything here. Do you honestly expect us to believe you got this place without a man's help?"

Several workers nearby turned to look.

Monica raised her voice. "Tell us, then. You're so young. Where did you get the money to buy a unit in Emerald Bay? Do you own a company? Do you have a husband? What do your parents do"

I stood up.

"Shut up!"

She raised her hand and slapped me across the face.

My head snapped to the side from the impact. I tasted blood.

Daniel was still holding my wrist.

Monica leaned closer, lowering her voice just enough to sound threatening—but loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Here at Emerald Bay, I decide who gets to live here."

I turned to face her.

My phone slipped from one hand into another. The screen was already lit. The call had connected.

A man's uncertain voice came through. "Ms. Bennett? The chairman?"

Monica looked caught off guard.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth.

"Notice the board. I want everyone online within ten minutes."

There was a pause at the end.

"Which level of authority do you want to activate?"

I looked at the ruined specimens scattered across the ground. "The highest level."